Rachel Glaser - Paulina & Fran

Paulina had heard this speech many times before, but this time she didn’t interrupt him. Usually when he scolded her, she fantasized about murdering him, poisoning him, drowning him, establishing her alibi, but this time she forced herself to listen to him, to look at him plainly, as if there weren’t a war inside her.

“ Vogue pulled our ads. Hair Monthly postponed our article. Sometimes you hurt this company more than you realize.”

Paulina tried to channel her hatred and fear into something more effective. She smoothed her hair back and gave Harvey a smile. Remember that time Garrett left his browser tabs up on his laptop? she wanted to say, but now that felt like so long ago. She’d barely seen Harvey in the past few months. He had some overseas Botox deal he was developing. He hadn’t invited her anywhere in a long time. She was no longer listening to what he was saying. She found herself longing for Fran again, but couldn’t bear to ask Julian for her number.

“Some people think it might be easier if you were less involved.”

Paulina tried to comprehend this. She took a breath and zoomed out, saw them momentarily like two dolls in a play office. But it was ludicrous! She’d been doing a good deed!

“I refuse to step down and I won’t be bought out.”

“Your contract has a clause in it to cover situations like this. It might simplify things. You’d get paid plenty you know.” Harvey sat in his chair again. He had her, and he’d finally managed to tell her without being interrupted.

Paulina was speechless. She would lock him in a tomb! Take him on a long drive and then leave him on the highway. She wanted to tie him to a tree and then shoot arrows at him. She could take him to court! She would sway the jury. Or maybe just trash his office. Wreck his car. At the very least, delete him from her phone — the phone SUPERCURL had bought her. Paulina stared at the puny Newark skyline feeling sentimental.

“I’m truly sorry,” she managed, after a long pause. “I acted impulsively, and then some might say defensively. But I feel so much a part of this company, and I’ll start going to meetings again, and try to think big picture, and consider whatever deals you’re thinking about.”

Harvey’s adrenaline slowed as Paulina spoke, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. It was one of her best apologies. He had finally scared some sense into her. Deep down, he liked her. She kept things exciting. But this was his chance to cut free. If he didn’t do it, Viv would say, “I told you so.” She’d bring it all up again: the Pantene confidentiality leak, the birthday party she’d ruined with her obnoxious date. She’d say that Paulina discriminated against people with straight hair. Suddenly Harvey remembered Paulina’s drunken speech at the Milan opening, and almost smiled.

“Well,” he mumbled uncertainly. “If you really will cooperate. .” Something soft and good was rising within him. Viv would kill him when she found out. But he liked this unexpected feeling. It kept telling him how reasonable he was, how totally unlike his father he’d become. How generous, how honorable.

“We could give you a lesser role,” Harvey heard himself saying. “You could still keep your office. You would still be one of the founders.”

Tears formed, but Paulina willed them back in her eyes. She didn’t need any favors! She and Luca would start their Curl Institute. She had so much money. She had so much style! But she couldn’t bear to watch SUPERCURL burn on without her. She pictured some fool in her office. She could see it now — Harvey’s new Wave Line products, already stupid, paving the way for Straight Line products.

“Okay,” Paulina said.

Harvey looked defeated. They stared at each other. Harvey waited for Paulina to thank him. Paulina waited for him to apologize.

“Remember that time we saw Garrett’s computer,” Paulina said, “and he’d written in to that medical site asking about his rash, and in another window he had a cat adoption site open, and a dating site, and some article on how to get gum out of denim?”

Harvey smiled.

“You’ll be glad you kept me on,” Paulina said. “Really.” She wanted him to beam with joy. “Truly,” she said, looking hard at his face.

“Good,” he said, waving his secretary in. The woman gave Paulina a pitying look, then immediately started talking about Luxene. Paulina listened, keeping her opinions to herself.

“Like a trip?” Fran asked. Julian nodded. All weekend, Fran had looked for signs of Paulina and found none. The mirror had been cleaned, her sad, dusty “Hi” now gone. There were no tampon wrappers in the garbage, no lotions by the sink.

“A romantic getaway,” Julian said, pleased.

“What’s wrong with here?”

“Nothing. But this will be somewhere new, somewhere neither of us have been. I’ve heard it’s really beautiful.” He ran his finger down her arm.

“In Lancaster?” Fran asked.

“Near it. If you take the train here Friday night, we can drive up. I rented a car.” She tried to imagine this. Would there be a little shack by the lake? Would she wear a little nightie thing, like she was losing her virginity?

She searched the room again for anything new. The nightstand, the closed blinds, the dresser. She saw that the spider had abandoned his web; the sagging threads were now coated with dust. There was a pile of thick novels by Russian writers, some dollars crumpled on dirty socks, the broken plastic laundry bin. “Whose umbrella is that?” Fran asked. It was elegant, black.

“Joel’s. I had to borrow it.” Julian touched her cheek. “Kids and all that. Do you still want them?”

“Do you?”

“I could have some kids, if you wanted some. Where did you want to move again? Canada? I could move to Canada,” he said. Her old dreams sounded dreary and difficult now. Canada? The coughing started up again. There was a sound of a chair pushing against the floor. Fran and Julian looked to the wall, while the coughing continued.

“Should we call a doctor?” Fran asked.

“Is there a doctor in the house?” Julian asked, looking around. Fran laughed and grabbed him.

“What about the movies? Weren’t you going to make films?” Fran asked. The coughing spell continued. Julian waited for it to finish, then walked to the bathroom. As she watched him, she thought she saw something on his butt — a tattoo or something. “What is that?”

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Fran said. She’d probably imagined it. She pictured next weekend, in Lancaster, near Lancaster. But, no, she’d seen something there, on the back of him. She tried to put it out of her mind while he hummed in the bathroom. She saw herself pregnant with his child, standing near a big picture window, looking out at a yard. She saw her pregnant self near the Canadian window, holding something. . a cup of tea? She didn’t really drink tea. She stared at the wall Julian shared with Alma. Fran had seen her once in the hallway. The old woman was tiny. She probably hadn’t started out that size. People shrank, grew inward.

When he was asleep, Fran turned on his book lamp. He slept soundly on his side, his head facing away from her. She gently pulled the sheet down. “Love you,” he murmured, then snored at her. She wanted to laugh. She pulled the sheet to his thighs and examined his long torso. On one of his lean butt cheeks, in faint pen, she saw Paulina’s handwriting:

215 grand st. apt #11

10 next friday

Fran stared at the Post-it where she’d copied down the address. On her work computer, she looked up what subways were near there. What did Paulina want with her anyway? Fran wasn’t going to fly all the way to New York just to have Paulina insult her and make her promise never to see Julian again. Paulina was like that. If you took something of hers, it was never forgotten. You were never free.